


Storm & Drive

by VultureCat



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Pacific Rim Academy Au, Pining, Romance, drift compatible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VultureCat/pseuds/VultureCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't the happiest when he's driven out of his home due to the Kaiju infestation.</p><p>Derek is more than annoyed when he's told he needs a new partner - specifically this skinny, annoying, maybe beautiful - Stiles.</p><p>They're both in the same boat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bright blinking lights of the compound hurt Stiles' eyes sometimes-but he's gotten pretty used to it in the week that he's been here. He can see them through the small window in the door. It's a thick metal door that creaks when opened, but it's been left ajar tonight. Security is never too serious which makes sneaking out easy. Actually, living at the Jaeger Academy has been pretty smooth since training hasn't started as of yet. Unfortunately, Stiles shares a bunk with the loudest snorer in the barracks, who also happens to be his best friend.   
  
The only nice thing about having his home destroyed is probably that Scott's was destroyed too. It's a little selfish and messed up, but Scott keeps him hopeful, keeps him grounded. The wake left everyone free to move to the nearest military base, so their families packed up their bags and moved. The Jaeger academy needs more manpower-- that's what everyone tells him. Not everyone is suitable for piloting a Jaeger. They need to be drift compatible. The best of the best. Stiles hasn't been tested yet-- but he bets Scott will be his partner. They've been friends since childhood. If anything’s going to come out of that, it’ll be their bond.  
  
"Wake up, Scott. It's almost four," Stiles hangs over the edge of his bunk and prods at the snoring figure beneath.  
  
"Do you hear what you're saying Stiles? It's almost four. We don't even have to wake up until six," Scott whispers back, groaning and tugging the blanket to cover his face.  
  
"Come on Scott. It's been a week in the barracks and our parents get to sleep soundly in the civilian compound 20 miles from here. I bet they have comfier beds. We should explore at the very least. I hear they have Kaiju samples in the basement!" Stiles says excitedly.  
  
"And even if they did, why do you think I'd come with you? I hate Kaijus," Scott says sleepily. "We hate Kaijus, Stiles. It's a thing."  
  
"I don't hate them. I don't understand them. And fine, Scott. Tomorrow morning you’ll get to hear about my exciting night adventures," Stiles says, slipping out of bed and out the door.  
  
Stiles isn't too familiar with all the hallways, but after a week, he knows where the stairs are at the very least. He isn't sure where he wants to go- but sleeping in the barracks makes him uneasy. They aren't soldiers in the traditional sense, but sometimes he feels young compared to the veterans of the war against Kaijus.  
  
As of now, the government is funneling more and more money into the Jaeger initiative each year- showing the most famous Kaiju killers on TV like the brother and sister team, Derek Hale and Laura Hale. Jackson Whittemore and Danny Mahealani are also a relatively famous team, albeit a little too smug about their achievements to really warrant respect. He tries not to get caught up in all the  hero worship, but sometimes he imagines himself in their shoes.  
  
He'd like to be a Jaeger pilot one day, preferably with Scott. He hopes they'd be drift compatible. Usually family and lovers are drift compatible- and Scott is basically family. Somehow, Stiles gets lost in his thoughts. The fluorescent light flooding the hallways calms his nerves. It makes everything looks starch white and clean. Thankfully, there aren't too many guards around.   
  
Stiles wants to try and get a look at one of his favourite Jaegers. He's seen Wolfbane many times on TV but never in real life. The Jaegers are usually locked away in a restricted area, open only to engineers and scientists but hey, Stiles has always been curious. And nothing bad has really come of his curiosity.  
  
Stiles is just about to turn into the engineering hallway when he bumps into something tall, dark and firm. Stiles falls back on his ass, hands splayed out to catch himself. Stiles feels a knot form in his throat as he looks up at-- out of thousands of people he could’ve bumped into this late at night--Derek Hale. He looks pissed off. Stiles shivers.  
  
"You're not supposed to be in the hallways after curfew," Derek says, looking Stiles right in the eyes.  
  
I could say the same to you," Stiles shoots back.   
  
"Funny. Veterans don't need permission. Newbies like you however-- should stay out of my way," Derek says, then breezes past him, leaving him a little embarrassingly star struck.   
  
He waits until Derek turns the next corner to get up and yell, "it wouldn't hurt to say sorry!"  
  
Stiles wanders around for another hour, fuming a little about Derek Hale. Rude, arrogant Derek hale.  
  
But Stiles isn't about to lie to himself. Derek is quite attractive. Sometimes everyone sits around in the barracks and mingle. They talk about the famous Jaeger pilots and how hot they are. Stiles gets it. Dark, broody and built-- what's not to love? Well, his personality for one. He seems troubled and haunted. It's creepy.  
  
Moodily, Stiles drags himself back to his bunk and crawls under the covers. He has to get up in around an hour for the first official day of training. He's kind of excited and terrified at the same time. Scott promised to try and partner up with him, but the two of them weren't sure what kind of training they were going to start off with. Mental or physical? The commanders told them both were equally important when it came to Jaeger pilots. Most people don't even make it past the first couple of rounds. And that’s why there are hundreds of bunks filled with recruits, just like him, lined up and down the academy. Shaken, Stiles closes his eyes and sleep comes to him slowly.  


* * *

  
  
"Up and at 'em! We've got actual work to do today," a loud shrill voice blares from the direction of the door. Stiles grimaces. He’s tired as hell considering he only got one hour of sleep. He does, however, admit that it's his own fault.   
  
"How was your adventure, Stiles? Was it worth it? My sleep was worth it. I already know that," Scott grins sleepily at Stiles.  
  
"Well, I didn't get into any secret rooms or see any Jaegers, but I did get a lot of time to think. Calmed myself down a bit – you know? I also met Derek Hale. He's kind of a douchebag," Stiles replies.  
  
"The Derek Hale? The Wolfbane pilot? He hardly ever comes out of his sector. I swear he is training all the time. Makes sense though," Scott says while pulling on a black tee and some joggers. "He's really good.”  
  
"Of course I know he's good. He was on TV every single day back in Beacon Hills," Stiles says, rifling through his small pile of clothes. "But yesterday he knocked me over and called me a newbie. I mean, I am new but still. He didn't even help me up."  
  
"Oh does Princess Stiles need to be taken care of at all times?" Scott says. "I'm sorry her valiant guard wasn't there, for he needed to sleep."  
  
"Shut up Scott," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "He was rude and that's all. Well, he was actually pretty hot too. So there's that."  
  
"Don't get caught up in all of that," Scott says. "I don't think that'll end well. Why don't you have a crush on a perfectly nice trainee like the rest of us?"  
  
"Scott. Just because you're completely obsessed with that brunette doesn't mean that I have to also be in love with a trainee too. Anyway, I don't have a crush on him. I'm just stating the obvious-- he is objectively good looking," Stiles says quickly.  
  
"I'm not obsessed with Allison! She's just beautiful, you know," Scott says. "Her smile especially."  
  
“God, Scott. I am not listening to you drone on about her for another couple hours. Let's go," Stiles grabs Scott by the arm and tugs him along with the rest of the trainees just rolling out of their bunks.  
  
They follow the rest of them until they arrive at a room where everyone sits down in chairs haphazardly lined up against the wall. The room is made out of dull grey metal, like the rest of the compound.  
  
"Today, we are going to be conducting the first test. A psych analyst will be examining your minds. This is the first step of evaluating how effective you will be as a Jaeger pilot and how your brain drifts with others. Most people do not become Jaeger pilots. It's rare to have the physical capability and the mental capability to pilot a Jaeger," the commander says. "Get up when your name is called and follow the analysts."  
  
Stiles rests his head back against the wall and sighs. He hopes his brain isn't too weird for piloting. It hasn't exactly been his lifelong dream but who could predict the arising of alien monsters out of the ocean? Anyhow, he certainly wishes to be a glorified, famous pilot. The pay is decent and worldwide fame isn't bad.  
  
Scott mumbles a bunch about Allison that Stiles doesn’t catch before getting called up to his test. Stiles' name comes up soon after (a butchered version of his given name with a quick apology.) A lady dressed fully in black ushers him into a smaller room with a reclining chair. There's a grey helmet hooked up to a computer by a ton of tiny little multi-coloured wires. Stiles sits himself down in the chair and leans back. The chair is cold but it brings him out of his head.  
  
"Just relax and breathe. I'm going to put the helmet on you and examine your brain processes. You'll be sent into your memories. Don't follow the rabbit. Don't get stuck in your memories. That's what prevents you from connecting well with your partner. Also, don't be ashamed of your memories. That also prevents the drift. I won't be seeing any of your memories, but I will see your brain algorithms and the way you react to the drift," the woman says, pressing some buttons on the screen.  
  
"Alright," Stiles says. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. The helmet slips over his head as he lifts it and he falls back into the chair.   
  
"I'm going to start now," he faintly hears the woman say.   
  
He's blasted into his mind and his memories suddenly become vivid and clear, but glossy – like he’s seeing them in moving photos instead of being present. He sees images of his mom, playing baseball with him in the backyard, laughing hard when he trips over a garden hose and smashes his face into the dirt. His mom comes to pick him up and muss up his hair. He's relishing in the memory, but it quickly disappears. The next scene replaces the last almost immediately.  
  
He knows these walls. Walls of a hospital- one of the shittiest places you can be, Stiles thinks. He sees his father's shadowy figure leaning over his mom's hospital bed, holding back tears because he knows Stiles is watching. Stiles wants to go over there and comfort him.  The figure of little eight year old Stiles is peering in the window, too afraid and angry to approach-- the cold, scent of lemon window cleaner suffocating him.  But Stiles could now.  
  
He remembers the instructions he was given. "Don't follow the rabbit."  
  
It's hard, his mind is all jumbled up and confused but he stays back, roots himself in place. Everything is vivid and surreal, colours hyper-saturated and off.   
  
His clearest memories wash away and he finds himself in the middle of a dance floor. He's grinding on some guy with black, messy hair and a t-shirt with some ironic band lyric on it. His hips roll smoothly and he's having fun listening to the distracting music. The guy-- whose name he doesn't even know, not even now-- pulls him into the washroom and presses him into one of the stalls. Stiles eagerly presses himself against him and there's a clash of lips and tongues. He almost loses himself in the memory. Stiles wants to keep going but the memory is vaguely embarrassing as it's one of his first sexual experiences. And it's in a washroom.  
  
It's through this shame that he shies back from the memory. Soon after, the memory dissipates and he's presented with a shuffling of childhood memories mingled with awkward teenage years. After an eternity of nostalgia and embarrassment, Stiles' helmet is pulled off and the dreamy state he was in ends.   
  
"We're finished here," the woman says. "You didn't fall too far in. You may want to work on your trust. Don't be shy about your memories, it breaks the bond. We'll see how you match with others."  
  
Stiles smiles and nods at her. He's not sure how he did, but he feels a little groggy. Stiles rubs his eyes and walks out in a daze. He finds Scott's face easily in the crowd of people outside. Most of them have on a distraught face, sweaty and stressed out. Scott doesn't look so great himself.  
  
"Are you okay, Scott?" Stiles says and swings an arm over his pseudo-brother.  
  
"Yeah, I'm okay. It was just a little crazy to see my dad again. I saw some memories from when I was just a kid. It made me mad and I swung at him," Scott says. "I followed the rabbit, apparently. Wasn’t in the right mind, I guess."  
  
"I get it. It was hard for me too," Stiles says.   
  
"They said I failed," Scott says, frowning.  
  
"You can fail this? What?"   
  
"Yeah, you can fail. It doesn't mean you can't be a pilot. But it means you need some kind of therapy for your psyche to drift better. Ugh, I can't spar today."  
  
"Don't worry. You'll get this. They didn't tell me I passed or anything. It's probably not a big deal," Stiles smiles at him.   
  
"Well, have fun. The commander's going to tell the next batch of trainees to go to the combat room."  
  
"Alright Scott. I'll be waiting for you. You better bust your ass and get to the combat room soon. Otherwise, who's gonna be my drift partner?" Stiles pats him on the back.  
  
"Yeah," Scott says, clearly in a better mood. "I'll get it."


	2. Chapter 2

The combat room fills up with bodies, eagerly looking around at the room. There's a couple large grey mats on the floor, all scuffed up from fights – maybe a little dried blood too. The walls are as pale as the rest of the compound and holds some exposed pipes. 

"This, trainees, is the Kwoon combat room. Learn to love it. It is your chance at becoming a pilot. One of the most important aspects of becoming a Jaeger pilot is finding a drift compatible partner. This is where we will be evaluating your compatibility," the commander says.

Stiles catches himself shivering. The air is slightly cooler here, and Stiles can feel the excitement of the trainees. He's pumped too, but Scott isn't there. Allison, on the other hand, is standing a couple feet away from him.

At the other side of the room, he sees Derek and Deaton, one of the head engineers. Derek is waving his hands animatedly and yelling. He can hear his booming voice from across the room, but can't make out what he's saying. Finally, Derek sighs, turns away and walks over to the commander. He whispers something in his ear and stands. 

"We’ve got a bit of a dilemma and an opportunity today. Due to some unseen circumstances, Derek needs to find a new drift partner, so we'll be testing each of you against him. However, Derek is a veteran in the Jaeger Academy, so don't feel too bad if you fail against him. Most likely, you will." 

Derek and the commander laugh at these words, looking over the crowd. When Derek's eyes land on Stiles, he rolls his eyes and grins.

Stiles feels himself tense up, not sure if it's excitement or fear. He wants to prove himself. He's been training in martial arts- his mom always encouraged him to try new things and learn to protect himself. Stiles just followed through. Stiles has also played lacrosse for a couple years, so his body is conditioned to training. Or running laps, at least. He knows not to be cocky. The trainees here could probably take him in sheer body weight, but he's fast and lithe. He can take a hit. That's how he survived the year that Scott went away to visit his dad. 

"So, who wants to go first?" Derek says lazily, as if no one will be a challenge for him. It might be true.

"Allison, you go," the commander says. 

Stiles is a little taken aback at his words. The commander knows her name? Well, Stiles hasn't been pro-active enough in making connections, obviously. 

Allison looks a little anxious that he picked her, but steps up to the mat. 

Her match with Derek is short. Derek's swings are fast and powerful. Allison hits back strong but her reflexes fall short. Stiles' eyes never stray from the match. He follows each hit with his eyes. In almost under a minute, she's down. She can't predict Derek's moves quickly enough. Derek is power combined with timing. Allison's tough, but not fast enough. Stiles is fast enough. He can see Derek's moves, and though he isn't as strong. He thinks he could take him.

Allison collects herself when the match is done and steps off the mat. She doesn't look defeated. If anything, she looks even more determined. Stiles can see why Scott likes her. Stiles catches her eye and gives her a thumbs up. Though she doesn't return it, she lifts her eyes and smiles. 

"Who's next? Eventually all of you are going to have to spar with him," the commander booms. 

Deaton is scribbling away in the other corner of the room and Derek looks content. Stiles wants to mess with his smug little face. Stiles figures, he has to go anyway. Why not second?

"I'll go," Stiles says and steps up to the grey mat. Others have already started their own sparring matches on other mats, but for the most part, everyone's watching. 

Derek looks at Stiles and laughs, amused, "you made it past the psych test? I'd get you re-evaluated."

"Okay. Fight me and say that again," Stiles says, smiling.

"Now I know you're actually crazy," Derek raises his arm and positions himself.

Stiles is a little nervous, but he hasn't forgotten his stances. He readies himself. Stiles is always in defensive mode. When he used to spar, his weight and strength weren't always a huge asset, but his agility was always unexpected. 

Derek moves forward slowly and plans his movements. Stiles tries to anticipate and moves accordingly. At every strike, Stiles evades and hits back. He pokes and prods and occasionally gets hit, but he mirrors the way Derek moves on the defensive. 

Time seems to pass by quickly and Derek looks a little amused, as if he's just testing Stiles. Stiles has taken a couple hits, but he's used to that. He takes them and rolls his entire body to absorb the hit so he isn't pinned down.

The room spins around him as they hit and dodge in a back and forth manner. Derek hadn't expected this. Stiles doesn't play on the offensive, he hits when he can and tucks in when he can't. The background is a blend of faces that Stiles doesn't look at, the only person he can see is Derek and his quick, agile body. Derek's movements seem effortless, despite the hits that he's taken. And Stiles can feel himself breathing heavily and slowing down. 

He can't beat a veteran. He wishes he could stay at Derek's level forever but his body isn't used to this level of sparring, yet. Stiles feels exhilarated. He isn't used to sparring with someone of Derek's level, someone who can match him at every turn and yet put more power than he ever could into all of his strikes. Derek catches Stiles at a weak moment and turns him into the ground. Arms wrapped around his torso and neck as he brings him to the floor. All he can see is Derek's eyes as he falls. Derek's intense gaze catches Stiles off guard. It's like he's looking through Stiles. 

When Stiles is down, he isn't upset. He did his best against a national hero. Derek's breathing hard and there's a light sheen of sweat on his skin. At least he made him break a sweat.

"Told you," Derek says.

"Told me what?" 

"You're crazy that you thought you could beat me."

"I never said I could beat you. But you did break a sweat," Stiles says a little triumphantly.

"I did. I have to say, I'm a little impressed. For a runt like you, anyway," Derek says. He actually sticks out a hand to help Stiles up.

Stiles looks at his hand a little suspiciously but decides to take it and gets up. He isn't quite sure how long the match lasted for, but he feels good.

Derek gives him one last smug look and walks back to his spot beside the commander. The commander's face is unreadable, Stiles isn't sure how good he did, but it doesn't matter. He retreats to the other grey mats and continues sparring with other trainees. 

None of them give him the head rush of sparring against Derek, but none of them are famous war heroes either. He doesn't expect too much. He's just excited for Scott to get in here.

Sometimes he gets beaten and sometimes he wins. The trainees all differ in level of previous training, and since the government is desperate for drift compatibility, they take them all.

At night, Stiles is exhausted. He showers and gets dressed in his pajamas. Scott is sitting there waiting at the edge of the bottom bunk. He pats at the spot next to him.

"You look tired, Stiles," he says.

"I really am. I had a bunch of sparring matches. I even fought with Derek," Stiles says, sitting himself beside Scott on the bottom bunk.

"I've heard. The trainees were talking about it. Apparently you were one of the people who lasted the longest," Scott says. "Allison told me."

"I don't know about that. Just tried my best - I lost to some trainees later on, so obviously I need to work harder. Anyway, when did you get to talk to Allison?"

"She was heading to the showers and I stopped her in the hallway. She's so adorable with her hair up," Scott says, a dreamy smile on his face. 

"Gross, Scott. Stop telling me about your secret romps with your perfect girlfriend. I'm both grossed out and extremely jealous."

"Okay, well,” Scott grinned. “She said you did good. I'm jealous that you get to be in the combat room. Meanwhile I discuss my "troubled childhood" with a therapist. I swear they're out to kill me. I'm never going to get to the combat room.”

"It's not that great. You'll get there," Stiles says as he climbs up to his bunk and tucks himself in.

Drifting to sleep, he thinks of Derek. He doesn't want to, but every time he closes his eyes all he can picture is his face as he pins Stiles down. And he's supposed to hate him. Betrayal, Stiles thinks, his mind is betraying him. Government propaganda. In the form of a hot Jaeger pilot. That's why Derek's in his brain-- because he watches so many of those recruitment commercials. At least, that's what Stiles tells himself as he finally finds sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy - love the response to this fic! Lots of sad but fluffy times in store for my two fave Beacon Hills residents.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles doesn't see Derek for the next couple of days. Not that he's expecting him. He has a daily routine of psyche training, sparring in the combat room, keeping himself fed and knocking out at night. It's calming, to have a routine. He isn't sure how well he's progressing but he keeps himself happy by joking around with Scott at night and seeing Allison around too sometimes.  

Stiles hasn't had Scott by his side for so long. It's depressing for Stiles, since Scott really is such an essential part of his world. The combat room feels gloomy and competitive without Scott. 

Fortunately, the commander's letting in a new group of trainees--ones who have passed the psyche test with help of therapists. They're to be watched harder than the first trainees, but Stiles knows Scott's going to do amazing. Maybe even better than Stiles. 

"Finally. The combat room," Scott breathes, giving the room a quick look-over.

"Yeah, the combat room where I suffer and get a billion bruises. What a wonderful room. Now we can finally work on being drift compatible," Stiles says dejectedly. "I've missed you, buddy." 

"Missed you too. And yeah... drift compatibility, that's important," Scott says, walking over to one of the mats. 

Stiles follows him, and they begin to spar with the staffs. Stiles feels the sturdiness of wood register in his mind, as if it's an extension of his arm. He's more used to it than Scott, for sure. Their match is quickly over, with Stiles' staff at his throat. The illusion that Scott would be his drift partner for sure dissipates a little, but Stiles holds hope. None of the matches he's had so far compare to the match with Derek. Stiles isn't sure if it's because he likes a challenge or because he likes the way Derek feels.  

 

* * *

 

 

A week passes, and Stiles sees himself improve in his sparring. He also sees how Scott makes a beeline for Allison every time they get to the training room. It's kind of depressing. Even though Stiles isn't looking for a relationship, seeing Scott and Allison make googly eyes at each other makes him kinda want someone to make googly eyes at too.

"You okay Stiles? You've been staring at the wall for five minutes," Scott says, poking him in the shoulder. 

"Yup, I'm fine," Stiles says.

"Well, I have something to tell you. But first, promise not to get mad?" 

"That would depend on what you're telling me Scott," Stiles raises an eyebrow.

"Allison and I are planning to be partners... It turns out, we're drift compatible. Also, I asked her out today and she said yes! God, what a lucky guy I am. Drift compatible, and she's beautiful!" Scott smiles. His smile is so contagious that Stiles actually doesn't feel that angry. He saw it coming.

"I'm happy for you Scott."

"I know we said we'd be partners and everything, but I got caught up with Allison and she's just so amazing, you know? I've never felt like this before." 

"Yeah, yeah. You're head over heels in love. I get it. Leaving your old friend Stiles here to die alone," Stiles says jokingly.

"Sorry Stiles," Scott says, leaning over for a hug. 

Stiles hugs back, feeling a mishmash of emotion. He's become a lonely little newbie. No partner, no drift compatibility with his oldest friend. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Stilinski. The commander's looking for you in his office," a trainee tells him. 

He doesn't remember his name, but nods and heads over to the office. 

Carefully, he stops right before the entrance. Derek's in there, along with the commander. Stiles feels his heart beat a little faster, not sure if it's from anticipation or fear. Every time he sees Derek, it's a rush of emotion. 

"Just the guy we were waiting for," the commander-- Mr. Argent, the label on his desk tells him-- says. "Meet your new partner, Derek Hale." 

Stiles' mind is reeling. The very thought he'd never allowed himself to have-- the notion that Derek Hale could ever be his drift partner-- has proven true? 

"Hey Newbie," Derek says. "Let's see how long you last with me."

He stands there a little too shocked to formulate a snippy response, the kind that Derek probably expects. 

"H-how?" Stiles finally mutters. "I don't want..."

"What? You don't want to be partnered with me?" Derek says.

"No, it's just... I don't even know you. I thought we were supposed to be, you know, close?"

"Well, Stiles, you and Derek are drift compatible, according to the analysts. You scored very well on your psyche test, by the way. And though your sparring skills are not the best, your styles matched very well. We're willing to give you a try, even though you're just a trainee. The Kaiju threat is alive as ever, and drift compatibility isn't always feasible. We simply don't have the time to fully train every pilot that comes through the academy," Mr. Argent says.

"Oh..." Stiles is at a loss for words. An embarrassing loss for words. He doesn't want to seem fiery and hotheaded in front of Derek, but he isn't this meek, surprised guy all the time. He just never expected this. He hasn't seen Derek for weeks and nobody told him he did well at all. Despite all of that, he feels... relieved. He thought he would never be paired up at all. He hasn't made that many friends with the trainee group, and everyone seemed to be picking their partners, even though they wouldn't be doing any runs for months-- maybe even years-- until they finished their training.

"Get ready, Stilinski. You're going to be training with Derek from now on. Practicing in the combat room, in the con-pod simulator room, all of that. You need to be Jaeger ready as soon as possible. Derek and Laura were one of the best, and I expect you two to quickly rise in the ranks as well."

Derek just holds the smug grin on his face and gives a grunt of approval. "We'll get there. If Stilinski really is as good as he says." 

"I'm ready. When do we start?" Stiles glares at Derek. His hands clench and he stands up a little straighter, determined to do well. He's somewhat confused by the partnership, but he won't let this opportunity fly past him. He knows it's amazing to start in the con-pod room so early after arriving.

"Now is good. Let's go give you a test run in the con-pod room," Derek says, leaving the room, signaling for Stiles to follow. 

Stiles trails behind him as he weaves through the hallway, heading to the con-pod room that Stiles has never seen. He's heard about it though. That it has two helmets and looks like the inside of a Jaeger. 

"Are you unhappy with this, newbie?" Derek says.

"No... Stop calling me newbie. My name is Stiles."

"We'll see if you deserve to be called your name that after this run. There's a legacy I have to live up to, you know."

"What happened to Laura?" Stiles asks softly. His curiosity overwhelms his politeness and he just has to ask. 

"She transferred to a different facility. Fell in love with a guy. Fell out of love with piloting. It was hard on her. She didn't like the rush of piloting and the pressure it put on her. She's in the operations business now... I miss her," Derek says gruffly, without turning back to face Stiles. "She was an amazing pilot."

Stiles stays silent for a while. Somehow he feels like he shouldn't have the privilege of knowing this information. He expected Derek to avoid, or even reprimand him for asking.

"We're going to have to share everything with each other, if you're wondering why I'm telling you this," Derek says. 

Stiles nods, even though Derek can't see him. He almost forgets about the aspect of drifting where they have to share their memories. Sooner or later, Derek will know absolutely everything about him and Stiles will know everything about the famous pilot who he previously only knew of on the TV.

"So here, is the con-pod room. We'll be here a lot. The simulations are a pretty good representation of what actually piloting feels like, except without the mortal danger."

He can see the con-pod room through the huge windows that the engineers and analysts use. There's a door leading to a change room where he thinks they'll get outfitted in their suits. The entire thing feels huge and larger than life. The con-pod room is a jumble of wires and screens, with a platform where the pilots can stand. 

Derek stands with him at the window. "They simulate pain too, so if you fail, you feel it. It's tough."

"That sure makes me feel at ease," Stiles says sarcastically. 

"The idea isn't that you should feel at ease. It's that you should try hard to catch up to me and get ready. It's not going to be an easy journey, but I'll help you," Derek says.

Stiles is taken aback at Derek's offer of help. It makes him feel shy, unlike himself. Derek is so big and mighty and famous. Stiles is just a trainee, hardly qualified. He isn't even the most passionate of the trainees. Some of them would give a lung to be where he is.

"Thanks. I'll try my best," Stiles says, walking over to the door with Derek. 

"Stand still and listen to instructions. They're going to put the suit on you now. You're going to feel nervous when the helmet comes on, but the fluid will clear in a couple of seconds. Don't panic and don't be scared of me."

"Scared of you? Pfft. What do you mean?" Stiles puts on a brave face and smirks.

"You'll see. Opening up to someone new isn't exactly easy. Now stay still," Derek places a hand on his shoulder.

Stiles is handed a pile of clothes and after he's changed, the workers direct him to a platform where they put on his suit. As the workers put on each piece, he listens to Derek's careful walkthrough of the process. His voice is like a calming wave, keeping him afloat in all of this newness. He listens and breathes as the fluid fills his lungs. He wants to cough but he doesn't, following Derek's instructions.

"Ready to go?" Derek asks, looking over at him.

His helmet doesn't block any of his vision, so he looks over and nods quickly. His limbs feel heavy from the suit, but he supposes he'll get used to it.

They head into the actual con-pod room and wires are quickly attached to their suits. Stiles can hear the scientists and analysts from the speakers inside his suit. He prepares himself, knowing vaguely what drifting feels like. Drifting successfully requires a mind meld from both of the pilots. 

"Drift in 3... 2... 1..." 

A rush of adrenaline floods Stiles' senses. He's shot back into his memories, once again. But this time, he's not alone. He can feel Derek there with him and it makes him on edge, like Derek shouldn't see all of him. He's embarrassed and holds himself back. He wants to drift with Derek, but share everything? It's a little too much for him to handle all at once.

He passes through his memories, careful not to go too far into any of them. The entire time, he feels Derek's mind like a hand, pushing and prodding through his memories and opening him up, seeing all of him. Stiles also explores Derek's memories-- his family, Laura, his old partner, his piloting experiences. Somehow, Stiles doesn't feel like he's prying. He feels the cold forest air of Derek's old house, before the Jaeger Academy. He can see the pretty blonde hair of one of his ex-girlfriends. 

Stiles grimaces as they pass through older wounds. His mother's death, rejections from old crushes, his first couple of sexual experiences... It doesn't tide over well when Stiles feels Derek see them. He's probably judging him. Stiles can already feel himself holding back and pushing away the connection. It causes him pain, but it's as if he can't control himself. He doesn't know how to just completely let Derek in, someone so unknown and unusual.

Immediately, the drift starts breaking down. It isn't working and Stiles knows it--he can feel it. It's like Derek and Stiles are ripping apart, their connection shredded. It places an enormous pressure on his brain and he panics, trying to rip off his helmet with his metal gloves. It doesn't do him any good and he can't find the clasps to release himself. He can hear his sped up breathing, fast and out of breath. Stiles is self-aware. He knows he's panicking, but every time he tries to control it his mind overwhelms him. He's blocking everything out--shutting his mind down so he can stabilize himself.

Suddenly, his helmet is pulled off and though he feels dizzy and disoriented, he can see Derek's face. His big brown eyes staring right into him. He can vaguely hear Derek telling him to calm down and relax. Before he knows it, he's moved back to the room where he changed and his suit is coming off. His mind clears and his vision sharpens, back to normal. However, his emotions feel fried, brain scrambled, and Stiles can see the disappointment in Derek's face. He shouldn't even have tried. He's a complete failure and he will not let Derek laugh at all of his stupid memories.

"Stiles, look at me. Relax. Breathe. You're fine. It doesn't always happen and that's okay," Derek says, holding his face in his hands. His touch feel tender, despite his rough skin. "Not everyone can drift on their first try. Even if they're drift compatible. It takes a while to be okay with seeing each other completely."

"I... need to go," Stiles says quickly. He rips himself out of Derek's grasp and runs out. His head feels like a jumble of wires that have suddenly been all pulled out of their sockets.  

Stiles runs all the way to his bunk without missing a step. Fortunately, it's empty since it's the middle of the day and most people are training-- with their partners. Stiles is overwhelmed with jealousy and anger. How could Scott leave him like this? With a professional pilot who wouldn't even give him the time of day if he hadn't done well on the psyche tests? Obviously they weren't drift compatible. His test was probably a fluke. He's completely embarrassed that he failed so hard. He blinks hot tears out of his eyes angrily.

With a sigh, he flops down onto his own bed and pulls the cover over himself. He's such a baby, crawling into bed when something goes wrong.  his mind is overrun with fear and embarrassment. He doesn't want to be in the pod for one more second.

After a couple minutes spent under the clearly impenetrable safety of his blanket, Stiles is startled to hear footsteps entering his room. Stiles thinks about getting out of bed but decides against it-- what if it's just a trainee coming back from training? Not unlikely. No point in showing him what a pathetic pilot he is or having to make up lies about being in bed during the day. 

"Stiles?" 

Stiles immediately registers that voice. 

"Go away," Stiles mumbles, eyes peeking out from the blanket to see Derek. He's changed out of his uniform.

Despite Stiles' command, Derek stays silent and instead chooses to walk over to his bunk. Maybe Stiles should've stayed quiet. It's hard to see someone when they're in the top bunk. 

"Stiles... It's okay. I'm sorry I pressured you to do well on your first sim. Nobody does that great on their first try-- I would know," Derek says softly. "It's tough. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"I didn't know you were capable of being nice. And thanks, but you can leave me alone now. You don't have to feel some sort of weird responsibility over me. I don't need you to be my teacher, or mentor or whatever," Stiles says harshly. He regrets the words as they leave his mouth. Derek's trying to be nice, and Stiles is the one who messed up. 

"That's not the way I feel towards you. I'm not your teacher... I'm your partner," Derek says.

Stiles' heart wrenches at his Derek's words and pumps into overdrive. He wants to take Derek's words at face value and not put too much thought or intention into them, but he can't help but feel... happy. Happy that Derek came to see if he was okay. His mind is scrambling to find words to reply, but instead he stays silent.

Stiles freezes when he hears Derek start to climb the rungs leading up to his bunk. Derek pulls himself onto Stiles' tiny twin bed, way too small for two people--especially one of Derek's stature. Stiles is on his side, back facing Derek, so he can feel when Derek lies down and pulls himself a little closer to Stiles. Derek's body warmth heats up Stiles' back... and Stiles' face lights up like a tomato. Derek's arms idle around the small of Stiles' back for a while, but then Derek wraps his arms around Stiles with a tenderness that makes Stiles want to flip himself over and kiss Derek like his life depends on it. 

They lay silently, as Stiles doesn't know if his words will ruin this moment. Derek's cuddling him. Never in his days at the academy has he ever even considered that Derek might be someone... caring and nice. Derek stays there, just holding on to Stiles, and Stiles finds himself relaxing-- his breathing slowing down, his entire body going slack. He's been on edge, and now it's as if Derek is taking the pain away just by being there. 

Words hang over them both, unspoken and unneeded. Stiles swears he can actually kind of... feel the compatibility between them both in that moment. But before long, Stiles drifts off, wrapped up in his partner's arms.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Since that day, Derek's been tiptoeing around Stiles, treating him like some kind of delicate flower. It's pretty funny and kind of sweet, but now Stiles is kind of annoyed. It's true, though, that he really panicked that day and Derek helped him calm down. At first, Stiles felt like it was a dream but when he woke up a little later, he could still feel Derek's arms around him. They haven't really spoken about it, but things are... nicer now? It should be an elephant in the room, but it feels instead like they've painted a slick new colour onto the wall and no one is talking about it. It's not a bad, obtrusive thing. It's more of a mellow change in their relationship.

They still haven't been back to the con pod room since that day. It's been almost two weeks, but Stiles and Derek have been around each other all the time. They don't have a strict schedule, but they have to train as much as they can according to their own needs. It's definitely an interesting experience to be the famous Derek Hale's partner. Even when he's back in his bunk, he can feel the stares of the bewildered trainees poring holes into the back of his head. Why him? Why Stiles? He's an average fighter and a goofball. The whispers at night sometimes unnerve him but he shrugs them off-- Derek's been great. Girls have actually come up to him and told him how lucky he is. That's pretty true. He is lucky to have Derek. Sometimes he feels like Derek is unlucky to have him. 

Today they're back in the sparring room, a quite needed break from all the time they spend doing psyche tests with each other. Stiles definitely prefers this.

"Lost in your thoughts again, Stiles?" Derek has taken to calling Stiles by his real name instead of newbie. "You'll never beat me that way."

The smile on Derek's face urges Stiles on and he swings his stick, hitting Derek square in his chest, knocking him over. 

"We both know I can beat you," Stiles smiles back, stick pushed against Derek's throat.

"Alright someone's getting cocky," Derek jokes back.

"I'm not cocky. I'm ready," Stiles says, putting his stick back on the rack. "Anyway, why haven't we been back to the con pod room yet?"

Derek looks down uncomfortably. They've been dancing around this conversation for a while and Stiles feels like tackling it head on today. Derek is suffocating him in the way he keeps Stiles placated and safe. 

"I just think we should give it a little time. It takes a lot of getting used to," Derek explains. 

"How am I supposed to get used to it if you never let me try? Is this cause I failed the first time? You said everyone does, so why are you only giving me one shot at it?" Stiles feels the anger seep into his words. They're out of the hearing range of any of the other people sparring in the room so Stiles feels comfortable talking, but Derek tugs on his wrist and pulls him into an empty hallway. Stiles feels weak letting Derek pull him around but he follows anyway.

"It's not like that. You know it's not like that. I just... feel like you need some more time."

"And you get to decide when I'm ready?" Stiles hardly holds himself together, seething. All the pent up annoyance he feels for Derek is suddenly expelling itself. "I know I messed up the first time. But you yourself said that we need to be ready as soon as possible, and I'm ready. Why are you suddenly going back on what you said? Just because I wasn't good enough?"

"No. We're doing good, you're going to get to go there soon. Trust me. Please," Derek says, looking pained. Maybe Stiles is going too far--but he's angry, and he has a right to be.

"Or maybe you just don't want to let me try again," Stiles says. "I'm just temporary, right? Until Laura feels like piloting again or maybe until someone scores closer to your psyche. So fine, don't waste your time with me in the con pod room." 

The words are out, and Stiles wishes he could change them to better portray what he feels, but it's too late. The anger caused by the whispers and looks, the feeling of being unworthy and unwanted has bubbled over and spilt out into something toxic. Inside, Stiles feels like a little crappy trainee always looking up to the famous, hot shot pilot. And the pilot won't even let him try to improve.

"Really, Stiles? You think with all the time I spend with you and all the fucking care I put into training you, that you're just temporary to me?" Derek edges closer to Stiles, facing him head on. His eyebrows are furrowed and it seems like he doesn't even want to look at Stiles. 

Stiles backs up against the wall, arms steady at his sides. "Then why do you treat me like a baby? Like I'm some kind of helpless person who can't even control his emotions enough to try a simulation.  You know everyone thinks you're too good to be my partner. And that is true, but you won't even let me try."

"I'm not trying to treat you like you're not good enough," Derek spits out, every word emphasized like it pains him to speak. "It hurt me to see you like that. I don't want to see you like that ever again, Stiles. It fucks me up, seeing my partner miserable. I just want to make sure that you don't have to experience that again."

Stiles looks away from Derek's piercing eyes and clenches his teeth. "Don't treat me like I'm weak. I don't need you to protect me."

Without looking at Derek, Stiles walks away. He doesn't know where he's going and Derek's not chasing after him or anything stupid like that. His mind is swimming with regret and fury. Stiles knows that neither of them are completely in the right. Derek was trying to protect him and Stiles, honestly, probably did need someone to pick him up after that first simulation. Why is he being so difficult? All of the anger that should be charged towards the stupid trainees is exploding at the person who he actually kind of cares about. 

Derek is sweet, gorgeous and caring. It's just like Stiles to mess everything up.


End file.
